


is that your tail?

by weekend_conspiracy_theorist



Category: The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl
Genre: F/F, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 23:51:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6062796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekend_conspiracy_theorist/pseuds/weekend_conspiracy_theorist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy is abominably sick, and Doreen is just trying to help. But maybe offering her tail as a blanket when Nancy says she's cold is not the greatest of ideas?</p>
            </blockquote>





	is that your tail?

**Author's Note:**

> so my stats class was boring today (....like usual) so I wrote this instead! By hand, on paper! My handwriting is kinda nice when it's not me frantically attempting to write down everything my professors are saying; I think I'm gonna make this a habit

"Is that your tail?"

"No, it absolutely is not; I don't know why you would possibly think that it was. In fact, I'm a little insulted that—"

"So it is your tail."

"Yes, it is my tail."

The "blanket" shifts, patting Nancy lightly on the shoulder, and Nancy buries her face more firmly into the couch. "That's a little weird, Doreen," she says, voice utterly muffled.

"That's just the fever talking, Nancy," Doreen rebuffs easily. "You were cold and the couch blankets are still incorporated into Mew and Tippy Toe's fort—stealing their roof would just be rude."

That was a fair point, but... "Itchy," Nancy mumbles. (She feels miserable, that hyper-sensitive kind of sick where her skin just hurts all over and her head pounds every time she moves. Doreen keeps her tail well-conditioned, but it's still fur, and she can feel it through her t-shirt and where the end brushes the bare nape of her neck—)

"Oh, frig, sorry, Nancy. I can go grab my comforter, it's super-soft and fluffy, you'll love it." The weight of Doreen's tail is suddenly gone, the couch shifting as she rises and scampers away. Nancy means to tell her that it's not a big deal, she doesn't have to get the comforter, but the words get lost somewhere in between Doreen leaving and Nancy's fever causing her to completely zone out for the minute it takes Doreen to return.

The comforter- soft, cool, surprisingly light- is dumped over her, startling her back into the present. "Better?" Doreen asks, flitting all about the couch as she straightens the blanket out.

"Feels good," Nancy mumbles.

"Want me to wrangle Mew out of her fortress? Kitty cuddles are absolutely some of the best medicine known to exist. The Night Nurse told me that the last time I saw her; she was all, 'Doreen! Did you hear about that new study about the cats and the flu and—'"

"Why didn't I get a shot this year?" Nancy groans, fumbling one hand out from under the blanket to find Doreen's.

Doreen sits carefully on the edge of the couch, her tail nudging Nancy's hip. She pats Nancy's shoulder with her free hand, probably making a sympathetic face as she does. "We were in space. My fault, I apologize; next time Tippy and I will kick alien butts and eat freeze-dried nuts all on our own." There's a pause, Doreen stroking a soothing line down Nancy's back and humming something suspiciously like her theme song (or Tony's) under her breath.

It's a sign of how used to Doreen's crazy she is that Nancy finds that comforting, too.

"You can lie down," Nancy tells Doreen, turns her head to the side as she yawns widely. "Get comfortable. I think I'm gonna just..." she trails off, her eyelids heavy as she blinks, and Doreens laughs softly.

"Sleep, Nancy," she encourages, shifting until she's stretched out along the couch, arm curled over Nancy's comforter-burrito form.


End file.
